


Juniper

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Black Mirror, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 2016 Reylux Tropesgiving Exchange, Anal Sex, Angst and Smut... Smangst?, Black Mirror AU, Epilogue Warning, F/M, Hot Mess Hux, I Write Sins and Tragedies Not Fluff, I almost Wrote Soft Kylux ALMOST, M/M, Mining for the Angst™, Multi, New Weird, Polyamory, Sort of Technohorror, This Beautiful Episode Did Not Deserve This, Virgin!Ben Solo, san junipero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: Hello Traveler, we hope you enjoy your stay in scenic Juniper!
Ben Solo meets a boy (and then later, a girl) in a world that is not what it seems to be.





	1. dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuresoto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuresoto/gifts).



> I'm #sorrynotsorry I wrote this when Black Mirror came back. 
> 
> Also sorry my Kylux is showing in a Reylux Exchange I am literally the worst. As always many thanks to [Alania](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania/pseuds/Alania), [Ms-Qualia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_qualia/pseuds/ms_qualia) and [brittlelimbs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlelimbs/pseuds/brittlelimbs) for being oh so patient and holding my hand while I cried writing this. You guys are the real MVPs.
> 
> This chapter without the epilogue is 5.8k. Its like I ALMOST follow my own rules.

* * *

 

He meets him first in a cantina on Juniper, the smell of cheap alcohol and stale cigarras lingering in the air. Auburn hair bright under the lights of the dance floor, he sways along to the blaring electronic music. Eyes closed, face upturned and rapturous. Ben wonders if he’s on something. Maybe spice or glitterstims. Little beads of sweat run down the boy’s temples, and Ben’s eyes follow their trail to the flimsy material of his shirt transparent with sweat.

Ben orders a second drink, finishing it in two quick swallows before throwing a few battered coins on the bar top. The burn of the alcohol soothes his nerves as he tries to steady himself. Such a jarring new place, neon Aurebesh signs and loud patrons. The unfamiliar buzz of nightlife and the press of bodies against each other. So many new things, different things. Things he hasn't seen in years. Things he’s yet to have experienced.

Here he’s just a passerby. A _tourist._

Scanning the crowd he looks for the shock of red hair again, but the boy is gone. Somehow having woven through the tangled mass of limbs on the dance floor like a pale ghost to disappear, a phantom. His body a sinuous sliver of white synthsilk in the wind.

Lost in his thoughts, Ben hardly notices as someone slides gracefully into the space next to him.

Ben turns to find the auburn haired boy standing beside him, a wolfish grin as he flags down the bartender. He orders two shots of whiskey, an Outer Rim brand Ben's only vaguely familiar with. His accented voice is clear even over the din of the cantina. Clipped, each syllable crisply enunciated. Up close the wet tee-shirt highlights his scrawny limbs, his long torso with its dusky pink nipples.

Ben guesses he’s maybe a few years younger than him.

“Well,” the boy trails offs, eyeing Ben’s arms, his large hands around his glass. His keen eyes rake over Ben’s robes, the long dark tendrils of his hair tied back into a knot at the base of his skull. “Aren't you something?”

He gives Ben a tongue touched grin, taking one of the shots in front of him in a neat gulp. A bead of sweat makes its way down his long neck as he swallows and Ben’s mouth goes dry. He follows its descent, looks back up to find the boy’s pale eyes on him. And in that exact moment it feels like time stops. People still chatter, the chrono on his wrist still ticks away a reminder. But for for a brief second it’s just the two of them standing there, staring at one another.

“New then?” the boy asks loudly over the music, ruining the lucidity. He cocks his head to the side, one long, pale finger tracing errant Aurebesh figures into the sticky bar top as he speaks. “You must be new. Tourist?”

“Yeah,” Ben mutters, looking down at his drink. He swirls it, ice cubes clinking together in the glass as the other boy eyes him mildly interested. “Passing through, you know?”

“Poor lost boy.” He clicks his tongue, grabbing Ben’s arm and tugging him closer. “You do have that clueless look about you. Do you dance?”

“We shouldn’t,” he says reflexively.

“Let them talk.”

“No.”

“No?”

The boy arches an eyebrow at him, leaning in. Somehow in the expansiveness of the bar Ben feels cornered, trapped by this wild boy thing with auburn hair and a wicked smile. “Well, my speeder is out back if you want to cut to the chase.”

“I shouldn't,” Ben stammers, hand clutching his empty glass. A hairline crack begins to spider along its side as he grips it tightly enough his knuckles whiten. The boy gently pulls the glass out of his grip before it shatters.

“Pity,” he _tsks_ , taking the other shot off the table. He downs it in one fluid motion. “Do you do anything other than sit there and look handsome?”

Ben scowls down into his empty glass. He thinks of his big ears and nose; the unfortunate draw his parents genetics gave him. The incongruence of his features and the strange stippling of unattractive marks all over his body.

“I’m not handsome.”

 _“Right,”_ the boy scoffs.

He crosses his legs at the ankles and leans against the bar. Tugging at the wet fabric of his shirt in disgust, he pulls it down far enough Ben can see the vee of his protruding collarbones, the hollow in between at the base of his throat. The small constellation of freckles that paint the thin, near translucent skin there.

“Are you always this dour?”

“I’m not used to not being angry. I feel... _different_ here. Out of tune.”

“You foolish boy; we don't need to be ourselves here.”

“Who then?” Ben asks, meeting his eyes.

“Anyone.”

“Who’re you then?”

“Classified,” he replies with a sharp smile. “And you?”

“Nobody,” Ben lies, thinking of his mother, his father. His uncle. His grandmother and grandfather. A galactic legacy, a dynasty running through his veins he never wanted, never asked for.

The boy looks at him unconvinced. He makes a thoughtful noise, fingers tapping against his chin.

“One does wonder what a Jedi would be doing in this place. I thought you lot were all about eschewing mortal comforts and such,” he remarks slyly, pinning Ben with his gaze. This close Ben can see his hooded eyes are the color of twin chips of ice. Of storm clouds, heavy and full with rain.

The boy slides a brave hand up Ben’s arm.

“Or did I get that part wrong?”

His words hang in the air as Ben flees from his touch and from the bar, pushing his way through the throngs of people on the dance cfloor. He finally ends up in a direction towards one of the exits of the cantina.

Regaining his bearings as he opens a door outside, a rush of cool air blasts him in the face. Rain is coming down in a constant drizzle, fat drops splashing on his head as he makes his way to the outside alleyway. His leather boots splash in the gathering puddles on the tarmac, and he makes it far enough away from the exit to hide under the awning and catch his breath. Focusing on his breathing, he gulps in the crispness of the planet’s clean air. The scent of rain and wet pitch that lines the roads.

He looks down and tilts his wrist, chrono still flashing the time back at him.

Looking up, he sees the boy sauntering out the exit. He makes the efficient movements of his hands look effortless as he lights a cigarra then takes a puff, making his way towards Ben. The pouring rain plasters his hair down to his skull, darkening it to the color of dried blood. A lock of it hangs in his face Ben wants to push back and tuck behind his ear.

“I know I didn't read you wrong,” he says, cocking a thin auburn eyebrow and taking another drag off the cigarra pinched between his fingers. Even in the rain it smells like spices, the sweet burn of tabacc. The end sizzles, crackling as he inhales, before turning to ash that drops onto the tarmac. The whole process reminds Ben a little too much of his dead father to be comforting.

The boy mistakes his musing for indifference. “Not much a fan of the direct approach?”

“I've never—” Ben begins, then closes his mouth.

There's no point in telling this boy he doesn't know, has never known what he wants, what he has wanted. The Jedi path has left him with only a few fumbling attempts at romance. Stolen snatches of time where lips and hips pressed cluelessly together, and _aren't Jedi supposed to not want to do that?_ — though he did want.

“I don't know how to do this. What you want from me.”

“It's simple really,” the boy replies, exhaling a plume of smoke that vanishes in the rain instantly. He licks his full lips and Ben feels something skip in his chest.

“As long as you want it too.”

Flicking his cigarra out into the rain, he grabs Ben by the collar and kisses him, mouth wet and tasting like spice and cheap whiskey. He licks the seam of Ben's lips, tongue peeking out to tangle with his until he leaves Ben breathless, dizzy-drunk off his kisses. Biting his lip before drawing back, he lets out an even breath. Runs his tongue over Ben’s plush lips one more time before stopping. Ben opens his eyes when they part and the boy is smiling back at him that sharp, vulpine grin. The one that makes him look feral.

“Easy,” he says, releasing Ben. He coolly steps back two paces. A shiver runs up Ben’s spine, already missing the warm body pressed against his own in the rain, the feeling of his lips and tongue.

“I'm Armitage.”

Extending a hand out, he beckons Ben closer with his fingers. “Armie, if you like.”

 _Armie_.

Ben rolls the strange name with its hard sounds around in his mouth wordlessly. _Armitage._

He looks at the boy’s hand. At the long, outstretched fingers with their bitten nails. Hesitates. The boy makes a face at him, a moue of impatience.

As he’s about to drop his hand, Ben reaches out. He twines his fingers between his and tugs him close, feeling his heat again. Feels the burn of the boy’s feverish skin against his own, as he whispers his name into the shell of the Armie's ear.

“Ben. My name is Ben.”

Armie grins and Ben isn’t exactly sure why.

* * *

 

The speeder zips through the city streets, Armie navigating them around the tight corners and turns. The neon sprawl of the city eventually lessens, making way for moonlit fields of cobalt blue grass. In the distance the ocean reflects the handful of moons Juniper has in its dark sky.

Ben clutches to Armie as he drives, thick arms tight around the boy’s skinny torso. Cigarra smoke and musk cling to him, even as the cool air whips around them. Ben hangs on to him and Armie throws his head back with a laugh, the sound muffled in the wind. Reaching back, he tilts his head so he can give Ben a searing kiss and this time Ben knows what to do, how to mold his lips against his. They only break for air when the speeder’s sensor kicks in, beeping an alarm as they nearly veer into a nearby tree.

Making their way to the shore, he kicks the engine off and leaves the speeder near the shore, stepping off into the pale dunes. White sand sucks up Ben’s feet as he raises up his arms and cracks his spine, bones popping back into place after being hunched over the boy's smaller frame. He looks over to find Armie watching him mildly interested as he kicks off his shoes, abandoning them to walk barefoot in the sand.

“I love this place,” he says, lacing his fingers into Ben's again. “I've seen so many planets. None quite like this.”

He makes a noncommittal noise as they stand there, soothed by the repetition of the tide rolling in and back out. There’s a peace normally just out of his grasp in the movement of running his thumb over the crests and valleys of Armie’s knuckles, as the moonlight paints the other boy’s features chiaroscuro. He look ethereal with his pale eyes and hair, colorless lashes. Freckles that dapple the bridge of his nose now only faint dots.

Ben parts his lips, begins to say something but stops with a frown as the other boy’s chrono beeps, flashing the time.

“I’ll be here next time,” Armie says, wistful smile on his face. “You’ll remember it?”

“Next time?” Ben asks. “Wait, Armie— what?”

The other boy presses another kiss to his mouth, open and searching. Ben melts into it easily this time, ready for what comes next. Then the pressure vanishes.

Ben opens his eyes, blinks.

Armitage is gone.  
  


* * *

 

_“Kylo.”_

_He startles at the sound of the name he’s only ever used in his head. The name he chose instead of Ben Solo, instead of being Skywalker legacy. He opens his eyes, and there is a girl. Her hair is in chestnut waves, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. She smiles at him, tiny rows of teeth perfectly aligned and lips split into a grin._

_She seems familiar, a name on the tip of his tongue he has yet to give voice to. A past lover or a fantasy, he’s not sure of_ — _even if it feels so real._

_“Kylo,” she whispers, and it feels like a cool breeze of wind against his naked skin. “Come back to me.”_

_He touches her face, too large palm sliding over her cheek. She nuzzles into it, kissing his palm. Moving it lower, he traces her neck and shoulder, skipping down to her chest. He makes his way to her breast and she lets out a soft sigh when he cups it, kneading it and feeling the weight in his hand._

_He reaches up to kiss her_ —

 

And wakes up with a startled gasp.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t bother wasting time in the cantina, immediately running through exit to the alleyway and down the street. Cobalt fields finally come into view and he tramples the blue grass underfoot, until it finally becomes sparse. The ground shifts to pale sand, ocean on the horizon. Juniper’s twin suns have yet to set, painting the sky hazy pinkish-purple gray shot with veins of orange and yellow. It makes him think of colors without tangible names in Basic, they way the melt into each other.

Ben slows down once he meets the shoreline, stopping to catch his breath as he takes in the dark ocean. Smooth as a pane of transparisteel, it reflects the binary sunset back at the darkening sky. Settling into the sand, he crosses his legs. Tries to commit the scene to memory, a memento. Something to meditate on when he goes back to the Jedi temple, when he gives up everything he’s had. No more strange lands with their equally strange boys.

As the suns slip further from the sky, he hears speeder approach. Armie hops off the sleek machine, settling in the sand next to him.

“There isn’t a more beautiful view in the galaxy,” he remarks apropos to nothing, auburn hair ruffled and blazing in the dim light. Ben cracks open an eye, ready to argue him until he realizes the other boy is looking at his face in profile, not the sunset.  
  


* * *

 

Ben is below him, face partially obscured by the hair that's been tugged out of its fastening as Armie moves, practiced. His slick-covered fingers are gentle as he prepares him. Whispering dirty things into Ben's ear, he licks the shell of it.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells Ben, his accent a purr in his ear. “Want you to feel it when I fuck you. Want you to feel how good it is.”

Ben lets out a low moan as Armie’s fingers brush against his prostate, cock weeping between his legs. The other boy chuckles, scissoring his fingers to make sure Ben can take him. He places a steadying hand on his chest, palm above and covering Ben’s furiously beating heart.

“Relax,” he cautions, slipping his fingers out and kissing the tip of Ben’s nose.

Before he can protest the loss, Ben feels the jut of something blunter. The head of Armie’s cock slick with lube is cold against his asshole and surprises him, muscles tensing as he exhales shakily. Then he feels the feeling of being breached, the sensation so much different than anything he could ever imagine. The fullness, the searing heat of being penetrated by something larger than just his own clumsy fingers.

Armie gives an experimental push of his hips, just a tiny one.

Ben lets out a strangled moan that takes them both by surprise and Armie stops moving. Waits.

“Ben, can I—?” He asks, panting. His body trembles as he waits for Ben to adjust. “I want to fuck you.”

Ben nods, biting on his fist as Armie pushes in to the hilt. He can feel the prickle of his pubic hair against his skin. Armie lets out a moan before moving again, quicker this time. The sharper thrusts leave Ben seeing stars behind his closed eyelids, as his hips snap like the crack of a whip and Ben wonders if he looks as sinuous now in bed as he did on the dance floor.

They move like that, never tiring of touching and tasting each other's sweat soaked skin. Gasping and sighing, Armie showing Ben what he’s been missing all along. Over and over again, Ben taking and taking until he feels the hollow parts in him finally fill—   _almost_ , but not quite.

This feeling, completion here in bed with a boy he barely just met, puzzles him.

Ben wonders what it means afterwards, nuzzling his head in the crook of Armie’s neck.

 

* * *

 

_“I’ll be here next time,” he says to Ben, moonlight behind him. Painted grayscale, the features of his face are hazy. His hand outstretched for Ben to take it. “Our special place. You remember it?”_

_Ben parts his lips, begins to say something but stops with a frown as his own chrono beeps, flashing the time._

_“I love y—" Ben begins, beach blurring. Armie slips out of focus like a hazy dream. He stops Ben with a finger to his lips he can’t see._

_“I know, Ben. I know.”_

 

The chrono on the table blares as he stirs. Ben unceremoniously knocks it into the wall with a Force push and a wave of his hand, going back to sleep.

* * *

 

Picking through the cantina crowd, Ben makes his way to his usual spot. Orders his usual drink, tossing the same battered coins on the sticky, scratched bar top. The Togruta bartender gives him her usual disinterested smile in return as he scans the crowd, but no one looks interesting. No wild boys with auburn hair or girls with hazel eyes and sweet smiles.

Finishing his drink, he makes his way towards the sabacc tables of the club; he’ll play a few rounds before he leaves for the night. As he passes, a girl with her hair in three buns and a tan leather jacket grabs the sleeve of his dark tunic.

“Hey, you know Armie, right?” She asks, his arm tight in her grip. “I saw you with him last night.”

She stares at him hard, the kind of woman who has had to fight for everything she has ever gotten in life and something sparks in Ben. Her eyes skip over his body like stones thrown into a lake. Not in appreciation, but assessing weak points, ways to disable.

“ _You’re_ his new thing?”

Accusation.

Ben shrugs. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

He thinks of cobalt grass, of indescribable sunsets. Of a daisy chain of bruises on pale skin and counting the satellites of the planet together. Pale sand the color of Armie’s skin sticking to his feet and a glassine ocean spread out like a blanket in front of them. They've shared this planet with fingers entwined and hips aligned.Maybe he is his.

Extracting himself from her grip, he looks at her. Really looks at her. Looks into her hazel eyes and imagines her hair down, and— _yes,_ _it is the girl_.

They stare silently at each other until she finally breaks the spell.

“It’s okay. I feel it too.”

Ben shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Maybe?”

She counters with a smile. Sharp, like a mask she’s wearing for her benefit. “You know… we could find Armie _together_.”

 _Together_ brings the implication of something he’s not entirely sure works or _how_ , but perhaps Armie will show him. Show them both.

“I think I know where. Do you have a speeder?”

“I know how to nick one,” she says tossing her head back and laughing, the sound tiny tinkling bells. She grins at him and wiggles her fingers for Ben to take, as she leads him out into the same alleyway where Armie first kissed him.

Pulling wires out of a speeder, her fingers dance. Multicolor strands she snips and ties together, disconnecting and reconnecting with practiced nimble ease. As she picks her way through the mess he realizes how crazy this is, how crazy they all are.

Crazy and doomed.  
  


* * *

 

They rendezvous at the beach where he last met Armie, a raised eyebrow his only reply to Rey accompanying them. He shows them the house he’s built. Rustic, the sort of old-world style shelter, shutters and drapes covering transparisteel windows, doors that open inward instead of sliding left to right.

The inside is an open layout, lacking walls. The bed a prominent fixture in the main room, its sheets the color of the cobalt grass and softer than anything Ben has ever felt in his life as he runs a hand over them. He wants to continue looking around, to marvel at the structure, but Rey takes the lead. Brave and curious Rey, the first to jar them out of the holding pattern they are currently in.

She sheds her clothes quickly and efficiently, hopping up onto the bed. Crooking her finger towards the both of them, he and Armie shortly follow suit.  
  


* * *

 

It's not every time the meet, but more often than not. Ben’s new education is learning creative ways for the three of them to move together, their bodies a tangle of limbs in the moonlight.

Armie teaches them everything he knows about sex, about the town they are in. The limits of their bodies and the limits of the world they inhabit. The way their fragile coexistence together is malleable. Survival and success. How they can warp it to their needs and how he can wring every bit of pleasure out of the both of them if he’s in a certain mood, the slightest hint of a more dark side lurking under his carefree demeanor. 

Sometimes he tugs on Ben’s hair when he has his mouth is around his cock, fucks Rey screaming through an orgasm right into another one. Sometimes he likes it rough, barely any preparation as he straddles Ben’s hips. Sometimes he slides Ben's slicked cock into the furl of his asshole, until Ben is seated inside of him completely. Fucks himself on Ben’s cock while pulling Rey into a deep kiss. Has her move so that she’s above Ben’s face, wet and open, slit dripping as Ben blindly runs the flat of his tongue along it to collect her juices. Sometimes Armie  _wants_ enough for the the three of them combined.

And sometimes he doesn't want at all.

Other times it's just Ben and Rey, Armie never touching them but watching with keen eyes from a chair in the corner. Loosely fisting his cock in his hand as he tells Ben how to fuck her so Rey screams his name, their names combined. The music of their cries like a spell as he spurts come in thick ropes to the sound of their lovemaking. Sounds that get lost into the winds of Juniper, the planet that brought them together.

Then he gives them both that cocky smile, before lighting a cigarra and moving to the bed. Eyes narrowed, he watches as his sated lovers slump bonelessly back to the mattress and towards each other, away from him.

Ben’s favorite though is being sandwiched between them. Armie’s breath in his ear or his teeth on his neck, the adoring look on Rey’s face as he presses their hips together. Her fingers twining in his hair or reaching for Armie as they take it slow, lazy strokes. The kind of unrushed kisses and touches that make them feel like the three of them have hoarded all the time in the world just for themselves.

Those are the best moments.

 

* * *

 

One night Rey tells them her story, the one of a scavenger abandoned on Jakku who salvages scrap to survive. The grueling hours, grit and grime under her nails she makes sure isn’t there when she comes to visit them. The scratch marks on the side of the AT-AT that mark the days of her exile, the stolen tech she built a VR set out of just to patch in and meet them.

The boys both bracket her body. Ben curled behind her, Armie holding her hand to his chest just above his heart, as she tells them about Unkar Plutt. About portions. How she’s never had a real meal or a real friend or lover until she met Armie in the cantina, how he's taught her so much. She tells them about her dreams about Ben, about the kindred spark she feels when he talks about his Jedi training. How she thinks she might also be able to move things with her mind and make people do things she wants them to do as well.

“I want to meet you, both of you,” Rey says, kissing both their knuckles. “I want it so bad, but I can’t leave where I am. They’re coming back for me one day.”

Ben wishes he could believe it as much as Rey does, pulling her closer in his arms. He kisses her hair as Armie tilts her chin up and kisses her fully, chasing her with teeth. They part with a soft sigh escaping both their lips.

“You could visit though?” She asks, fingers hesitantly tracing the bridge of Armie’s nose, his angular cheekbones. “Make this real?”

“I want to _save you_ from that hellhole Jakku,” Armie whispers vehemently. “But you deserve so much better. Maybe Ben will one day.”

Ben’s eyes snap to Armie’s as Rey gives a small pout.

“I’m afraid I can’t ever meet you outside of Juniper. Either of you,” he continues as his pale eyes meet both theirs, a thousand words and a thousand regrets unspoken in his gaze. Ben clings to Rey tighter as a chill runs down his spine. “Trust when I say I deeply regret the fact.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” His voice is frigid with finality on the subject. “Just know I wish things were different.”

They lay there in silence, Ben’s arms around Rey and Armie on her other side. His chrono chimes, reminding them of the reality they have to go back to.

That night each of them disappear wordlessly into the darkness and their quiet idyll begins unraveling.

 

* * *

 

Eventually conversation comes up of who they are, where they are from. Ben deflects as neatly as Armie each time, until Rey finally corners him. It’s so easy to forget what is real and what's Juniper as he gets lost in their skin.

She finally reminds him as she presses him and he tells them the story of Ben Solo: the myth, the legends. The stories surrounding him he despises.

“You’re _the_ Ben Solo?” Rey asks, eye filled with wonder. “The son of Princess Leia and the smuggler Han Solo? Ben Solo the Jedi training with _the_ Luke Skywalker who defeated the Empire?”

“That’s not—” he mutters, playing with a lock of her hair. Twisting it around and around his finger. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Armie has a knowing look on his face as Ben answers the volley of questions Rey has about being royalty, a Jedi, the son of general and the man who did the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.

“So you can move things too? Make people do things?”

Ben isn't sure. The Force feels different here to him. He lifts his hand, fingers outstretched and floats her shirt over to her wordlessly in reply, but it takes more effort, like he's underwater.

He doesn't meet her eyes.

“That’s— that’s brilliant!” Rey replies, clutching her shirt to her chest as she looks at him. “I can't believe this. Armie, you have to see this— Armie?”

They both look up from the bed.

Nothing.

“Where did Armie go?” Rey furrows her brow, nose scrunching in confusion. “I didn’t hear his chrono go off.”

“Maybe we didn't hear it?” Ben replies, still playing with her hair. _Twistingtwistingtwisting_ the lock, as something settles heavy in the pit of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

_“Don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me.”_

_Rey murmurs below him, but her eyes are pale, her hair flaxen. Her face blurs and shifts as she moves, thrashing her head left and right. The angles of her face become sharper, more masculine as her hair shortens, turning auburn._

_He blinks his eyes, rocking his hips into hers. His cock is still throbbing with need, but now Armie is underneath him._

_“Go,” he whispers hotly into the shell of Ben’s ear as he grinds into his hip. “Go.”_

 

* * *

 

“Try other times,” Rey says, as they search for him in the dunes, the fields, the cantina where they first met but find nothing. “He sometimes hops. I once had to meet him decades in the past. Its how I lost him in the first place.”

So they try ten years in the future, twenty, a hundred. Backwards, forwards.

Each leaves a cold trail, no auburn haired boys.

“Why do you think he’s hiding from us?” Rey asks, fingers twined in Ben’s. “Did we do something wrong?”

Ben doesn’t reply, only grips her hand tighter as he catches out of the corner of his eye explosions on the holoscreens in the cantina. The crowd in the bar goes completely still, silent until a glass drops, then a stifled sob. Rey shivers at his side, pressing herself closer, seeking the shelter of his body and he feels something tug at him, nearly jarring him out of his body.

Then he feels searing agony.

The screen reports billions, perhaps trillions are dead.  
  
Hosnia is _gone._

 

* * *

 

They find him in the pouring rain on the beach, sheets falling down drenching their clothes. To the right of them is his speeder, wrecked. He can see the chrome mangled around an outcropping of rocks. Armie stands in front of them unscathed, clothing ripped and showing his lithe body pale and gleaming in the moonlight. Laughing hysterically, he drinks from the open bottle of whiskey in his hand as he stumbles down the beach.

He pauses to look at the dilapidated structure, crumbling into the sand. The front of their house is now in shambles, porch cracking off in large sections. The roof has more than a few holes in it and the shutters to one of the windows rattle in the wind.

“Of course you still manage to find me,” he mutters, taking another swig of alcohol and leaning in close. His breath rank, alcohol mixed with bile. “I try another time and you still manage to find the breadcrumb trail to me. Neither of you willing to give up.”

 _"Pathetic,”_ he sneers, pointing a finger at Ben and jabbing him in the chest. “I expected as much from her, latching onto the first person to give her attention not a scum-sucking cretin. But _you_ , Ben Solo. You could have anything you wanted in this galaxy. And you chose me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Rey asks, hand tentatively outstretched but Armie bats it away. “You don’t have to be alone. Not here.”

“Of course I do,” he barks in reply, alcohol sloshing from the bottle as he totters in the sand. “I’m a general of the First Order, you foolish girl. _The general,_ actually.”

Ben and Rey’s eyes widen, horrified.

“No—” he begins, as he thinks of his mother's dossiers. Of red hair under a black cap. Cruel eyes burning, flecks of spittle flying as he addressed the ranks of stormtroopers below him before giving the signal fire.

“You can't— you aren’t him.”

“Yes. I created Starkiller. I was the one who gave the orders today for it to fire on Hosnia," the other boy laughs, sharp and cruel. “And the best part? _I don’t regret my actions today_. I believe in the purpose of the First Order and I will end the war keeping people like us apart.”

“No—” Ben replies, body coursing with rage already as Armie continues to speak.

“You both asked me countless times who I was, but never really wanted the answer. I’m Armitage Alexander Hux. I’m a general of the First Order, _boy_.”

He levels them with a stare far older than the boy in front of them, wizened by war and insurmountable losses. He looks like a man almost at the brink of being broken, but not quite yet. “Now that you know who I am, do you still believe what you’ve said about me? To me?”

The silence is deafening, only the waves lapping at the shore and the wind howling in the distance.

"I think  _not."_

He waits for one of them to speak, but Rey just wordlessly disconnects from the server, her body vanishing instantly from the space it occupied. Ben’s arm on her shoulder falls to his side.

“You know, I wanted to tell you once I knew who you were,” he says, looking up into Ben’s eyes from golden lashes. “Instead I ran. I've never ran from a battle in my life, but I ran from you.”

“You—  you killed my father! You tried to blow up my ship on Takodana!” Ben roars, pulling his lightsaber from between the folds of his robes and engaging it. “Me! My family! I questioned my training because of you! I abandoned my path!”

“You would have anyway,” Armie spits venomously as purple paints his face in the dim light, the hum of Ben’s saber at his neck as they stand on the beach. “If not me, someone else.”

Ben grits his teeth as frustrated tears of betrayal slip from his eyes and Armie swims from view. “I should kill you!”

“It won’t matter. Trust me, I’ve tried. I helped program the first generation of this sim back when it was only to train stormtroopers _,_ ” Armie— no,  _Hux_ , replies. Stepping closer to Ben, he hisses as the blade singes his collar. “If it will make you feel better— _do it_.”

Ben barely waits for Hux to finish his sentence, swings his saber in a wide arc and Hux crumples to the ground in an instant. Panting he watches as the body disappears and Hux reappears in its place, standing once more.

“Truly, Ben Solo... I never meant for this to happen.”

“I hate you!” Ben screams, stomping in circles and tugging at his hair. He slashes the walls of the house of cards they built on the sands of the beach instead, the house with the bed of lies and its cobalt synthsilk sheets they slept on and confessed their love for one another. “I hate you so fucking much, Hux!”

“I know,” he replies, face blank as he surveys the damage Ben has wrought and the saber slips from his fingers and falls into the sand. The sand underneath the blade warps and melts as the deadly weapon sinks into the beach, dissolving from view. “I know.”

Hux’s image waivers, then disappears.

Ben clutches at his hair, then screams into the night sky.

 

* * *

 

_“Ben,” they whisper in unison from the bed, sprawled out against the dark sheets now crimson, the color of spilt blood. He feels a cool breeze of wind behind him on his naked skin, the windows of the beach house open, drapes flapping in the wind._

_Rey is tucked under Armie’s arm, giggling as he kisses her cheek. Their arms are both outstretched, beckoning him as they smile. “Come back to us.”_

_“Come back to Juniper.”_


	2. a roman candle heart, keep us far apart

* * *

 

1\. Starkiller Base

 

General Armitage Hux takes off the VR headset, disconnecting it from the server. He tosses his tunic with a sigh, letting it slide down his bed and onto the floor, wrinkling the normally crisp black fabric. Going to the cabinet, he pours himself two fingers of Corellian whiskey, hands shaking as he remembers Ben’s purple blade spitting at his throat. The moment of darkness before it all came back into view and he was still there.

He gulps down the alcohol quickly, barely tasting it as he slams his hand on the counter.

_He should have known._

He should have fucking known not to get close to anyone while helping test the mainstream launch of the _Juniper Program_. He did not sign up to be embroiled in ridiculous star-crossed love triangles or to resolve his long-misplaced daddy issues of youth. And yet, here he was: a general of the most powerful military fleet in the galaxy, on his knees.

Finding the headset where he left it on his desk he throws it to the ground, crushing it under his boot heel. Sneering, he looks at the shattered pieces on the ground then calls for a droid to clean them up. It’s better this way. To let Armie die with his dreams of a sullen, raven-haired starboy he managed to make smile. A chestnut-haired girl who he truly thought he could save one day.

 _Attachments,_ he thinks, wrinkling his nose. _Disgusting._

Besides they hate him now that they know who he is.

His father always said he was a weak-willed boy, thin as a slip of paper and just as foolish. But he’s not Armie anymore, hasn’t been for years. Juniper was a  _mistake_.  
  
He is General Armitage Alexander Hux.

 

* * *

 

2\. Jakku

 

It's a few clicks trek on a rented speeder to find for what lack of a better word is her _home._  The hollowed out AT-AT of her shelter, nestled in between sloping dunes of sand. The desert heat beats down on his face, fat droplets of sweat running down his neck and into his dark tunic, plastering it to his body.  

Parking far enough away she doesn’t hear or feel his approach, he slogs through the gritty sand of Jakku to the entrance, tracing his fingers against the long lines of scratches on the wall in wonder once he’s inside. How long she’s waited for someone, something. He runs his fingers gently over the petals of the dried flower in its vase, the old pilot’s helmet turned VR set she still has.

Setting himself on Rey’s lumpy bed, he waits for her to return.

It's been long enough he's closed his eyes, lost the movement of time. He never wears a chrono now, only gauges the time passed by the setting sun in the distance. Hearing hesitant footsteps he jolts up from the bed, as she makes her way into her shelter. Her face masked by a scarf and goggles to protect it from the searing desert heat, the windswept blasts of red sand that buffer everything the desert sinks its teeth into something rougher, worn.

“Ben?” She asks. She holds out an unsteady hand, before pulling it back to her chest.

He nods from his position sitting on her bed and she breaks like a flood.

Her staff clatters on the ground as she climbs into his lap, arms winding their way around his neck. A carefree, unconcerned gesture of affection. Neither worry about their proximity, as he gathers Rey into his arms, presses his lips to her hair. Finally gets to breathe in the sand and sweat she never smelled like before, breathing in her tangibility.

That she is _real._

“I’ve missed you so much—” she begins, face jammed against his neck.

He feels her hot breath fan against his skin each time she exhales. Cleaving to him, she molds her body against his. Examines his broad hands, calloused from training. Slots her tiny fingers between his. They sit there in silence and Ben wonders if she's thinking about the other hand they should be holding. If she's thinking about _him_ , on his star destroyer, floating somewhere in the galaxy on the opposite side of the war.

The enemy.

“You know—” he trails off, dispelling old ghosts and tugging one of his ears. He gives her a lopsided smile as she looks up at him, watery hazel eyes he knows won't shed a tear because she learned quickly not to give from a planet that took so much from her away. “You still need a teacher, someone to show you the ways of the Force.”

“I want to be that—” he begins, but Rey presses her lips against his. Her fingers rove over his chest, clutch at his robes as though he’ll disappear any moment in front of her as he had in the past.

“Yes, Ben. Yes,” she whispers against his lips. “I’ve been ready for some time.”

 

* * *

 

3\. D’Qar

 

The next time they see his face is months later, Ben and Rey almost forgetting his pale eyes. Their fluttering golden lashes, the stark white of his skin compared to theirs. Almost, but not quite. They play house at the D'Qar base, sharing precious moments together. When Leia comms and tells them Hux has been captured by the Resistance while fleeing Starkiller, that they need Ben for interrogation, Rey drops the dish she's clutching tightly in her hands.

"Don't," Rey says, voice barely above a whisper. "This is asking too much of you."

Shattered pieces litter the floor neither of them move to clean up. Ben gathers his things wordlessly and walks to the containment cells without her.

 

With his base blown up and his shuttle intercepted, Hux is more than livid as they drag him down the hall. He looks older, far older than Ben would have imagined, almost haggard. Definitely not the lively youth he intimately knew. His pink lips Ben remembers kissing so vividly are chapped, bottom lip split and dripping blood down his chin. One of his eyes is black and puffy, a ring of bruises around it. The strange skew of his nose looks fresh. Ben wonders who did it.

_Who got to laugh that they bruised and bloodied the most hated man in the galaxy? Who got to put their hands on Hux before he was allowed to?_

Hux’s pale eyes narrow as the soldiers haul him into a cell, proud and defiant as he stands up and brushes his tunic off. He meets Ben’s eyes in recognition behind the transparisteel viewport, limps up to the pane between them and presses a palm against its surface.

“Hello, Ben,” he says, same glittering eyes and wicked smile on his face the day Ben met him in the cantina on Juniper. “You look well. I hoped we'd meet under... different circumstances.”

Ben stifles the urge to shudder as Hux rakes his gaze up and down his body, taking in the changes over the months apart. His longer hair, his darker robes. The angry raised line bisecting his face. The metal of the prosthetic on his right hand winking in the the overhead lights. A memento of his Skywalker legacy he tried to run from, now fulfilled.

“It suits you,” Hux muses, licking his bloody lips. “You always were, but now you look dangerous. How did Rey take your change?”

Ben’s face twitches involuntarily, but it's enough. He always was an easy read without a helmet on.

Hux’s smile widens.

“You found her.”

Ben doesn’t reply.

“And where is sweet Rey? May I see her?”

“No!” He barks, hand slamming against the glass hard enough it cracks, a hairline fracture that spiders like ice cracking, making its way towards the ceiling. “You get _nothing_ from her.”

Hux smiles indulgently at the outburst.

“Mmmmmm, so protective of our little Rey. Of course you ended up rescuing her."

"But I know the real you, Ben Solo. I knew from the moment I saw you at the bar who you were. Poor lost and lonely Ben, even blitzed on stims you were a pathetic sight. And so ready, so eager,” he muses, quirking a lip and wiping the blood off his chin until only a smear is left and a pink stain on his dirty white cuff. “You look the same in person. Mostly.”

 “You don’t,” Ben spits back.

“The blessings of youth rarely stay, my boy,” he laughs. “And I was a busy man up until recently. Hit a bit of a snag in occupation as Admiral now it seems.”

“They’ll kill you. The resistance. They’ll hold a tribunal, put you to death.”

“They’ll never find Snoke without me. But go ahead— _do it_. You killed me once, surely you can again. Give precious Rey my love if you do.”

 Thumb on the switch of his saber, Ben opens the door and enters Hux’s cell.

 

* * *

 

_Hello Traveler,_

_We hope you enjoy your stay in scenic Juniper!_

_Our opulent resort offers the following amenities: binary sunsets on pristine white beaches, luxurious cottages and speeders available by reservation, luscious fields of cobalt grass, epic uncharted scenery, as well as the usual every day facilities of other major metropolitan cities._

_Let yourself indulge in the comforts of youth while enjoying our resort in the style an era of your choosing. No matter whether you prefer the bustle of nightlife or quiet walks on the beach, Juniper has you covered with packages starting from casual tourist to a more permanent stay._

_Just ask one of our VR Advisors today!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I lift chapter titles from a Fall Out Boy Song? Yes.  
> Is Alexander a nod to _Breaking Point_ Hux? Yes.  
>  Is Ben's robot arm fanservice for Alania? 1000% Yes.  
> Is Hux wearing white at the end? FUCK YES.
> 
> I'm shameless.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I am deeply inspired by Black Mirror.
> 
> My trope prompt was: _Alternate Universe._ No joke. I asked Kuresoto to clarify and it went something like this:  
>  _Me: oh btw your writer asked if you wanted a specific AU? or if you just want something not set in canon universe (modern day, w/e)_  
>  _kure: any AU is good! anything not set in canon verse is good_
> 
>  
> 
> So this is not her fault.
> 
> For more reylux hell, weird ass writing shit and fandom wank, follow me on tumblr @ [purple-satan-fic](http://purple-satan-fic.tumblr.com/)!


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